Professor Insufferable
by WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot
Summary: in.suf.fer.a.ble... adj. As in "Prof. Michael Corner is insufferable until Daphne Greengrass pays attention to him". She does so, but only to stop him from talking. A "Clue" inspired ficlet for clever claws LJ community.


**A/N: **_. _For the LJ Clever Claws drabble/ficlet prompt post. The theme was "Clue" this time — and quite possibly the hardest inspiration I've had to work with so far. I really didn't like Clue growing up. The prompt used for inspiration was: _Prof. Plum, in the billiards room, with the dagger._ And for this one, I went with a slightly more cocky Michael Corner, which was fun.

Rated T for mature situations.

* * *

It was the day before fall term began, in 2007. And Hogwarts had a couple of new staff members.

Daphne Greengrass counted out the supply of various knives for her students to chop, slice, or otherwise massacre their ingredients as she stood in the middle of the rebuilt Potions room, currently draped in the green banners of Slytherin House. She didn't even look up when she heard him approach.

"That's quite a walk from the Transfiguration floor, Professor Corner."

"Well, I heard the view here was nicer than the one I had." He grinned as his eyes roamed over her body. "Must say I agree with that statement."

The newly minted Potions Professor raised her eyebrows. "There're no windows here."

"Did I mention anything about a window."

She glared at him, while trying not to grin. "When we discussed discretion earlier today—"

"You were wearing nothing but your bra and knickers, and I can't be responsible for what I might have said or agreed to."

"Mich- . . . Professor!" She faced him, her hands square on her hips. Underneath her billowy black robes was a luscious plum-coloured skirt that hugged her body in a very _provocative_ manner. "I thought we had agreed we needed to maintain a certain level of decorum around the students."

"Like they shouldn't know their Potions _Mistress_—"

"_Professor_," she said, exasperated. "I won't be a proper Mistress until I get at least three articles published and teach for five years."

"—And their Transfiguration Professor engage in pre-marital sexual intercourse?"

Daphne bypassed crimson and went right for plum purple. "_Corner, _I swear you prat if you don't shut your mouth, I'll show you my best imitation of Circe!"

This was his favourite part of his day. Riling her up. She always had the most dramatic reactions to anything he did or said.

He wiggled his eyebrows. "Was it something I said?"

She drew her lips into a pout — which seemed to be her most common expression, having such big lips — walked over to Michael and planted a kiss on him.

"Better? You're insufferable until you get attention from me."

"Am not!"

"Are too, Michael!"

"Oh? Are we back to 'Michael' now? No more 'Professor Corner'?"

She crossed her arms; Michael's eyes were drawn to her chest. He noticed that the first two buttons of her top were undone, and he caught the barest hint of her lace bra.

He felt his throat dry out.

"I won't forget over how you made me call you that last night." She gave him a little mocking squeal and batted her eyes exaggeratedly while flashing him her best pout. "_'Oooh! Can you give me detention, Professor Corner? I've been a naughty, naughty witch!'_" She snorted.

He scoffed. "Oh, like _'Who's your Potions Mistress?!'_ was all innocent!"

Daphne flushed a deep crimson. Michael tried desperately to hide his chortle; her skin very nearly matched the deep purple of her skirt.

"Have I exasperated you enough for the morning?"

She lingered next to him, shrugging, not looking at him. Instead, she ran her finger in between his buttons on his shirt. "Maybe you haven't exasperated me enough today." She raised her eyebrow and he, again, as he always did, smirked.

"See, I knew you couldn't get enough of me, Professor Greengr—"

She pulled him down and smashed his lips on hers.

"For Circe's sake, Michael! Do you ever stop talking?"

"Not when it's about me I don't."

"Figures." She wrapped her hands around his head, kissing him more passionately than before.

Michael walked her over to her desk, where they took a moment to make sure she wasn't going to sit on any sharp or . . . squirmy.

It was a Potions classroom, after all.

She leapt up onto her desk, keeping her lips planted on his.

Just as they finished unbuckling his trousers and loosened her knickers, Michael pried his lips from Daphne's neck long enough to take a breath. He spied the Slytherin House banners again, covering over the otherwise drab grey rock that made up the room.

"Y'know, all this green in here, with your House's blazon on it—"

"Talking too much Corner."

"This is less like shagging in Potions."

"Do I need to muzzle you?"

"More like shagging on a billiard table in the Slytherin common room."

Daphne lifted her head up.

"Are you quite finished with your words? Because I was thinking . . ." She slid her hand into his trousers. She smirked as he gasped and smiled, wide-eyed.

"You were saying?"

He shut his eyes, still smiling. "I wasn't."


End file.
